After our disappointing news a couple weeks ago, I was forced to stick with plans to go visit my family in Ohio. I say forced because I really wasn't in the mood for a road trip and then a few days with extended family.

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hmph.... It turns out, it was exactly what I needed.

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My family has long been a source of stress and feelings of rejection for me. Since my Dad died in 1994, I never really felt like I belonged anywhere. Not in the way I'd belonged in my family before then. Sure, my in-laws are fantastic and they couldn't do more or say or act more like I am one of their own - but I don't have a terribly long history with them. My mother's family tends to the ill-adjusted, so while I have great relationships with some, we're not really a cohesive family. And my dad's family.... well, for the most part, my Dad was the glue. And without him, nobody could seem to figure out how to maintain the family as a great big unit, even occasionally.

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Until this year. It turns out I have that knack that my Dad had of pulling people together. This year has been a boon for my entire family. I no longer feel like I have little to offer my own nuclear family in the way of extended family. My brother and I have formed a new kinship and it's awesome to see our kids together. Silly Sally was antsy the whole way there (an agonizing 5+ hours in the car), "My belly hurts from wanting to hug my cousins!" My uncle and aunt (Dad's brother and his wife) have made me feel more at home in my hometown than I have felt in years. They are honestly happy to have us there and they absolutely love my children. My uncle is so much like my Dad, it is nice to have my kids grow so close to him. Of course, I adored him as a kid (well, I still do), so it's really no surprise.

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I've really enjoyed being with my (step) grandma and learning new things about sewing from her. And it's awesome that I am getting to spend time with my youngest brother - even though he doesn't really enjoy it all that much yet. I don't take offense, though, since I have girl children and he is an almost 15-year-old high schooler. He's incredible, though (yes, I am biased) and is so sweet and good-natured - but don't tell him I said that. I would like to say that things were less awkward with my stepmom this time, but they weren't really. Yes, she sat next to me (intentionally), so that's an improvement. But I'd really like to have the opportunity to talk with her one on one and try to clear the air. She certainly seems happier than I've seen her since my Dad was still alive, so maybe things will continue to improve with us.

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It's been a great year. For real. I don't know if I've felt this loved since my Dad was alive. I know that sounds weird, but it's true. When I was in Ohio in August, I felt guilty for not visiting his grave (I was even there on the anniversary of his death and didn't drive up there.). This time, I allowed myself permission not to go. I know without a doubt that it's just my Dad's remains there and that he would rather I spend more time with his family, my family, than to take a couple hours to visit a cemetery. It is something I struggle with - but I can see that my time there before was an attempt to connect with someone who can no longer connect directly with me. That it's always been God's plan for us to connect to our dead loved ones through the others who knew and loved them - that's why we're given families, for better or for worse.

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On top of the reconnection with my Dad's family, we've enjoyed many visits with our other family as well. My mom has been here 3 times to visit for long weekends; in-laws came for Bookworm's First Communion; I've met and enjoyed being with my father-in-law's Baltimore-area family; and we all enjoyed a trip to see the Mouse in Orlando, along with a week with our family at "home". Plus, we're headed back to Florida for a few weeks in December.

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Yes, it's been a banner year for love in this house. I guess it's not so bad for us to be so far from where we want to be, if this is the result God had in mind.

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I want to mention a big THANK YOU to everyone who posted kind comments over our being declined from the foster care program. It is a great disappointment, but I know that God will find some other way for us to share our home and hearts with others while we are here. Your comments were a balm and I really appreciate them all. Really, this community is the reason I don't just close down the ol' blog.

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Also, do you think I should participate in NaBloPoMo again? Was it boring last year? Can I come up with enough interesting topics to write about? Or am I just too darn boring to even think about doing it again? I seriously want your opinion - all two of you. :)

Have you ever looked forward to doing something so much that your heart nearly burst in anticipation? Something you felt was absolutely the right thing to do, something that ultimately is pretty unselfish - yet you just know that your own life will benefit greatly from giving of yourself? Have you ever thought of that thing for years before finally giving in to the call? Letting the anticipation build and the desire grow until you just had to act?

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That's how it's felt whenever I prayed about foster care. I've been anxious the last couple weeks because I expected to hear from the agency right away after our meeting. But something was nagging at me - that I was not hearing right away (when they'd been clear in stating they wanted to move fast due to their need).

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And today, I got a phone call from the coordinator of the program. And she said nothing but glowing things about me - how I'd be perfect... BUT...

due to a misunderstanding (and some ill-timed jokes), she doesn't feel my family is a good fit for their program. She's wrong. I know she has to act based on what she sees, but she doesn't see accurately. And anyone who knows us, knows my husband has a sense of humor and potentially crosses the line without any ill-will. She doesn't feel she can work with him - "this is no laughing matter, what these babies go through..."

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She just hasn't had the opportunity to see his heart, how good he is, how loving and supportive.... And she doesn't have the time to give him the chance to show her.

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I know that God is going to use this rejection for an ultimate good. I just can't see it today through my tear-blurred vision.

In a conversation with my mother:."I sleep better at your house than anywhere else, including my own house.".My mom is flying in this evening to spend a long weekend with us. I am really looking forward to the time together and she'll get to do fun things like accompany us to a piano lesson, a riding lesson and she and I are doing the Race for the Cure on Sunday..Please prayerfully consider sponsoring our walk.

This time of year always has me on edge. It isn't that I don't like fall - I love fall, it happens to be my favorite season. I'm not particularly bothered by the change in weather (though, let's face it, it's hard to claim there's been a change in weather when we're having 90 degree days in October, same as the previous few months). So, why can't I sleep at night?

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Well, it's because I love baseball. Particularly the excitement of the postseason. And when the Indians are playing in the postseason, I am that much more wound up.

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Some of my most recent memories of my Dad (he died in 1994, so "recent" is a relative term) are from my first semester in college. I'd come home from work between 10 and 11 and he'd be sitting in the living room, with some work in his lap that he'd brought home. I'd join him in the living room, sitting on the floor so I wouldn't get the furniture smelling like that fast food place that rhymes with Darby's. And we'd watch baseball. We'd quietly yell at the television (there was a sleeping mom and baby upstairs), we'd jump up and down and pump our fists in the air. And the teams who were playing weren't even our beloved Indians. Sure, I'd watched lots of games with my Dad before then - my whole life, I loved watching games because he loved it. But something was special that year, just the two of us up late into the night, silently participating in this American tradition.

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In the spring of '94, my Dad busted my chops because I went to see a game at The Jake - before even he did. That summer went by quickly and when he died in early August, I regretted that I hadn't gone with him to a game at the Tribe's new ball field, instead of with a group of my college friends. That fall, I felt the baseball strike was apropos, since I couldn't watch with my Dad, I felt that all of baseball was mourning the loss of such a fan.

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The following year, I threw myself back into the postseason. It helped that the Indians went all the way to the World Series. 1995's postseason, my lack of sleep was more due to the amount of *ahem* beverages I was consuming more than my inability to settle down after the games. Being in a bar crowded with a thousand other cheering fans, though, does get your adrenaline going. And with every run scored by the opposing team, it felt like their foam tomahawks were slicing right into our hearts.

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Every year since, I've been twitterpated by October baseball. In '96 I cheered for the Yankees, only because they were at least American League. In '97 it was the Indians again in the Series, but they just couldn't pull it out. I even had all my buddies who were Sox fans cheering with me that year. But then it got really old, watching those boys in pinstripes year after year. Yet, I watched. Some years, like when I was a brand new mom, I didn't have the energy to stay up for the games. Other years, I stayed up late, on the phone with my husband or father-in-law watching the games "together".

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This year, though, for the first time in nearly ten years, I'll be on the edge of my seat deep into October... jumping up and shouting at the tv, long after the girls are in bed... running out onto the porch to whoop and holler when a game ends exactly as it should - with the Tribe on top. And I pray my Dad is watching (and yelling at the television) with me.

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The next 10 days or so will be interesting as some of my longest friends are pitted against me due to loyalties that only matter in the postseason. And to them I say,